One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, FLOOR
by The ORIGINAL Corky
Summary: Even a newsie feels the need to have a drink with his pals from time to time. But what happens when he’s had one shot too many? ::Modern Day Newsies one-shot; slash pairings::


**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Newsies (well, ok, at least not legally or anything ::wicked, evil laughter:: ), or any of the songs (ok, I'll get a bit specific here: "Semi-Charmed Kind of Life", "Don't Stop Me Now", "Bohemian Rhapsody", "Crazy Bitch", "Fallin' for You", and lastly "Thriller."). I do however own the plotbunny that sparked this idea!!**

**Author's note: Big big huge big Shout Out goes to the fabulous Hair for beta reading this for me and letting me know that it doesn't suck even remotely near to what I thought it did! Next! I'm not gonna lie to you, I got this idea while I'd been having a couple of drinks myself...hey, it was my Friday! I'm allowed! Anyways, I'm gonna warn you right now, there's a very strong reason for this story's rating. Vulgar language, crudeness, Political Incorrectness, and just like in "Blood Drips..." some content that is somewhat unbecoming of a Newsie. You've been warned!! Also, yes, there's slash in here...Dacky, Sputchy, and Sprace...don't like it, don't read it. Don't mean that to be rude or anything just...fair warning and everything. Anyhow...enjoy it!! And remember...One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, FLOOR!!!**

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_One Tequila_…

"_I want something else, to get me through this, semi-charmed kinda life, baby, a baby, I want something else, I'm not listening when you say, goodbye. Do do do, do do do dooo, do do do, do do do dooo, do do do…" _Music blasted from the speakers at either side of the dimly lit room. Neon signs advertising Budweiser, Miller Genuine Draft, Sam Adams and other various beers provided the only source of light; reds, blues, oranges and gold mingled across the shiny, wood table tops and bounced off the lenses of people's glasses. In the back corner a DJ worked to set his sound equipment up, readying himself for the time when would-be superstars and sloppy drunks would get up to sing karaoke.

"Whew! Damn that burns!"

"Suck the lime you dolt!" Skittery exclaimed and smacked Dutchy upside the head. Coughing and cringing, Dutchy looked over at him before flipping the bird and glancing back at his friends, tears forming in his eyes from the strong liquor.

"I forget, is it lick, shoot, suck? Or shoot, lick, suck?" Blink questioned, cautiously poking at the glass with his finger.

"You should know better by now, Blink! It's lick, suck, shoot…at least, that's how it is for me anyways." Joked Specs, his eyebrows waggling as he made crude gestures with his hand and open mouth, tongue darting against the inside of his cheek quickly.

"That's not the way I showed ya, Dutchy! You lick the salt from your hand, down the shot, and then suck the lime. Or do like I do and just grow some balls and down the damn thing." Bumlets said just before grabbing his shot glass and downing the alcohol in one swift gulp. Slamming the glass back down, he smiled proudly, flipping his black hair off his forehead in a Fabio-like way.

"Yeah, but you're Mexican! You're used to this shit."

"Hey! That's racist, you Polish Jew, and I don't have to stand for that…" Pointing a finger at Specs, Bumlets gave a mock glare before picking up a lime to squirt at the glasses and ball cap wearing guy next to him.

"It's a good thing you're sitting down then, huh?"

A group of five young men sat crowded around a table waiting for the rest of their friends to arrive. Five shot glasses sat empty on the surface before them, a shaker of salt sitting in the middle next to the small bowl of sliced limes. It had been Skittery's idea to go out for drinks after work; it was Friday after all, it was time to cut loose, relax, and have some fun with the guys. No one expected Dutchy to agree. Drinking wasn't his usual scene. No one could forget his twenty-first birthday two years before when, after only one glass of MGD, he'd thrown up on the waitress and spent the rest of the night passed out on the bathroom floor. Though he swore he'd been sick that day to begin with, his friends all knew the truth, Dutchy was the lightest of lightweights.

"How ya feelin' so far, Dutch?" Asked Skittery, a silly smirk on his face as he smacked the blonde on the back and let his lanky arm hang over his shoulder, the sleeves of his light pink work shirt rolled up to his elbows and partly unbuttoned.

Laughing and watching as a waitress in tight black pants and an even tighter white shirt went sashaying by, Blink tilted his head to get a better view as she moved to bend over, not even bothering to glance at his friends as he piped in. "Feel like you're gonna blow chunks again?"

"Stuff it Blink, I'm fine."

"Right, that's why you're turning green."

"I am not! I'll prove it! Specs get us another round!" Dutchy demanded, slapping his hand down on the table, the glasses rattling together and the salt shaker teetering from side to side. A warm and fuzzy feeling already buzzing around his head, making him start to feel a bit funny and wonder if the others were feeling it too, Dutchy glanced off towards the DJ and silently began musing over whether or not he wanted to attempt the karaoke that night.

Blink looked at Skittery and smirked before they both looked to Specs and shrugged. They weren't about to turn down another shot, or the chance to see Dutchy lose it yet again. Tossing some bills onto the table in front of Specs, the three friends smiled cruelly.

"Make it the _good stuff_ this time Specs."

_Two Tequila…_

Techno lights began bouncing off the walls as the music changed. The beat pulsed through the floor, making the crowd want to tap their feet and dance in place. A few people drifted out to the make shift dance floor, bouncing and grinding against each other just to get a rise out of the other person. "_Tonight, I'm gonna have myself, a real good time. I feel alive. And the world, turn it inside out, yeah, floating around in ecstasy, so don't. Stop. Me, now. Don't. Stop. Me, cuz I'm havin' a good time, havin' a good time…" _

Dutchy blinked a few times, took his glasses off to rub his eyes, put them back on and blinked a couple more times. Specs had been right about that shot; it was a lot smoother than the first. It was warm and tart and, was it possible it tasted a little bit like cinnamon? In any case, it went down the chute with such ease and settled nicely in the bottom of his stomach, bringing the warm and fuzzy feeling all through his upper body and a bit of a silly grin to his face. Of course, then again, in a matter of five minutes the room seemed to have started to tilt ever so slightly to one side, or was it just his chair? Glancing down at his chair legs, Dutchy gripped the table tightly.

"Hey! Who tilted the floor?"

Looking at him for a second, Bumlets stifled a laugh as he looked away.

"I think Dutch is already starting to slip." He muttered to Specs. Laughing and nodding, Specs turned his attention back to the door, motioning as another wave of friends came jogging through the crowd.

"Hey Dutch, why don't you have a beer now, huh? Pace yourself with the shots. Have a beer then you can have another shot." Skittery said, a mischievous grin playing on his face as he stood up to go get the twenty-three year old a bottle of beer.

"Yeah, I think that's a good idea. Thanks pal."

"Somebody wanna tell him switching between shots and beers is only gonna make things worse?" Blink asked, leaning over to Bumlets so that their already buzzed friend couldn't hear.

"Heeeeey!! It's Spot and Race!! Hi guys!!"

Glancing over their shoulder to see Dutchy leap from his seat to give the slightly confused and scared pair each a big bear hug, Specs, Blink and Bumlets all looked back at each other and shook their heads. "Naaaah."

Returning to the table with a bottle of Heineken, Skittery smirked more as he sat it down and looked towards the grinning blond. "Hey Dutch, here, I got you a Heineken."

"How many drinks has that kid had already?" Jack asked, leaning an elbow against the table as he sipped his own bottle of beer. Having arrived a few moments earlier, he'd been enjoying the banter and antics of his friends, especially watching as the glassy glaze began to form over Dutchy's sapphire blue eyes.

"Would you believe us if we said only two shots of Tequila?" Blink asked, smirking as he watched Dutchy pick the bottle up off the table carefully and begin to chug it down like a shot.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jack nodded and watched also, his head tilted to one side. "Yeah…I'll buy that."

The table that once held five friends and five shot glasses was now cluttered with ten glasses, two full bottles of beer, one half empty bottle and four extra people—Dave, Jack, Spot and Race all arriving within a few minutes of each other. It was going on eight o'clock and the crowd surrounding the bar was quickly thickening. It wouldn't be long before they'd be elbow to elbow with other intoxicated idiots, and only a matter of time before their poor gullible friend made a total and complete ass of himself. He'd already started rattling on about how great it was to be out with all the guys again and how he missed spending time with them.

Dragging Race over so he was seated next to Spot and moving Dave so he was next to Jack, Dutchy smiled brightly, his bangs wiggling loose from the light slathering of gel keeping it all in place as he nodded in satisfaction. Looking back at the four he'd arrived with, his smile quickly disappeared and he shook his head. Nope, that seating arrangement just wasn't going to do anymore. Dutch grabbed the back of Blink's chair, pulling it backwards and sending the preoccupied flirt flying forwards off it, his face landing right in the chest of the busty blonde waitress he'd been trying to hit on. Ignoring his friend's laughter, he pushed the chair back towards Bumlets and moved to grip the bottom of Specs seat, tugging him around the table and closer to where he sat next to the bar. Looking to Skittery's chair, Dutchy frowned, took hold of it, and moved it to the opposite side of the table a moment before the taller friend went to sit down, completely oblivious to the cry of surprise as Skitts landed flat on his back and had to roll out of the way of people's shoes quickly. Finally satisfied for the moment, he grinned dumbly before slinging his arm over Specs shoulder and picking up his half empty bottle of beer.

Raising his bottle to each of them, he leaned heavily on his friend before looking back at the green glass short-neck in his hands. "Through the teeth and over the gums, look out liver, here it comes!"

Slamming the empty bottle down on the table, causing the already wobbly table to shake and teeter, Dutchy grinned from ear to ear as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

"Ya know somethin'? This…us all gettin' together like this? This was a great idea…it was…really. Skitts! Where's…ah…Skitts," moving his arm from Specs shoulder to Skittery's, Dutchy gave him a partial hug as he patted his wallet against his friend's pink shirt, "you're a genius. I mean that. In fact, I'm gonna let you do the honors of using my credit card to buy us more drinks. I would like…another shot—cuz that shit was fuckin' good! What did you get Specs? Nevermind…get whatever is good—and I would also like something else…what else…" he muttered, looking down at the table and snapping his fingers as if that action was going to help him think of something.

"How about I just pick something for ya, man?"

Looking up, his thin frame glasses slipping down his nose, Dutchy stared at him for a moment—mouth hanging slightly open as he thought about that. Tilting his head back so that he could look at Skittery through the useless lenses of his glasses—with or without them everything was starting to look blurry to him—he finally smiled and nodded. "Yes! That's fanTABulous! Thank you!"

Shoving Dutchy's arm off his shoulder and pushing him back into Specs, Skittery smirked and shrugged. "Another round of shots and a mystery drink for Mr. Drunken Generous. Anything for you guys?"

Receiving nothing but smiles and shakes of the head, Skittery turned to once again make his way to the bar.

"Is it possible for this idiot to get any drunker than he already is?" Spot questioned, scooting away from the table a bit as Dutchy tried to get his attention about one thing or another.

"It's doubtful. He'll pass out any minute now…" Race answered as he shook his head and finished off his own glass of Gin and Tonic.

_Three Tequila_…

"…_I am tryin', not to tell you, but I want to, I'm scared of what you'll say, so I'm hiding, what I'm feelin', but I'm tired of, holdin' this inside my head! I've been spendin' all my time, just thinkin' 'boutcha, I don't know what to do, I think I'm fallin' for you. I've been waitin' all my life, an' now I've found ya, I don't know what to do, I think I'm fallin' for yoooooooou…"_

"Pass out any minute now, huh Race? Bullshit!" Spot shouted his hands covering his ears as the sounds of a horribly off key karaoke version of Colbie Caillat's "Fallin' for You" blasted over the speakers.

Cringing and feeling a shiver go down his spine as Dutchy continued to butcher the song from "stage", Race frowned and shrugged. He watched as the lanky blond swayed back and forth to the music, his eyes closed as if he had the song already memorized –which he quite apparently did!—and belted it out without a care in the world. How were they to know that the normally anti-karaoke one would be the first to jump at the chance to sing once the DJ had everything set up? Even though they all knew it was mean to keep pumping the poor guy full of alcohol, the group of friends just couldn't seem to help themselves anymore! The drunker he got, the funnier it all became!

Ten shot glasses on their table had quickly spread to being twenty-five, the waitress having to make two separate trips to their table just to clear them all away. The whole gang had finally shown up, each greeted with a big bear hug from Dutchy and the offer of being bought a drink or two…dozen. Three shots of tequila, one bottle of beer, and one tall glass of Mostly-Rum-n-Coke had turned him into the friendliest one of the bunch, not to mention the funniest. Impersonations, jokes, meaningless random babble, the boy had it all.

The whole bar was a mixture of laughter and cheers as the song ended; Dutchy smiling proudly as he wobbled a bit on his feet to take his bows. Hopping off the three inch platform he was on and landing flat on his face, his shoulders shook with laughter as he pushed himself back up and staggered back to the table.

"Did'ja's…ha haaa! Did'ja's see what I…I falled…I felled…I…" consumed with laughter, he waved his hands as he fell against Specs again, doing his best to try and contain himself. Taking a deep breath and looking up as Buckcherry's "Crazy Bitch" began to play, his eyes went wide. Facing Specs, he placed both his hands on his shoulders and quickly gave them a few shakes.

"Hey! Hey! You…do ya 'member dis song?! Huh? 'Member…uhm…'member in high school? We used ta sing dis song ALL THE TIME! 'Member?!"

"Ha ha…yeeeeah, this song was just released this year, man." Blink said, his own head starting to buzz from the drinks.

Dutchy spun around to face him, his feet staying in one place as his legs twisted around each other and he tumbled into the arms of a passing waitress. "Oh, sorry sir…hey, ya might wanna have dose tumors looked at. Dose can't be good at all." Shaking his head solemnly, he pointed to her chest and frowned. "Either dey're tumors…ooooor…ya've got some very nice man boobs. Boobies boobies boobies!!"

"DUDE! Quit playin' the bongos on the waitress you jackass!" Bumlets laughed as Dutchy bounced his hands off what little bit of chest she had, promptly getting a swift slap across the face. "Sorry about him, ma'am…he's really not as think as you might drunk he is…uhm…wait…that's not right…"

"Now who's the jackass, Jackass?"

"Shut the fuck up, Davy! You're out of your element!"

"You're just jealous cuz ya don't got nice man boobies for people to play with!" Blink laughed as he shoved against Dave's shoulder before taking another swig from his bottle.

"What?! I'm not jealous!! I never get jealous! And besides that my man boo…wait…nevermind."

Blinking as the waitress he had been holding onto for support was no longer there—not to mention being completely unfazed by the slap in the face—Dutchy began to totter again before he spun himself back around to the table and bobbed his head in time to the music. Starting out simply mouthing the words to the song, his voice quickly grew louder and louder before he was simply trying to drown-out the song completely.

"Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go! Beelzebub, has a devil put aside for me, for meee, for meeeeeee!!" Glasses flying off his face and onto the table, a flurry of blond hair whipped up and down and back and forth, dangerously head banging close to the edge of the table. Falling into Jack against the wall, he took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he began to sway back and forth in his arms. "Nothing really matters…anyone can seeeeeeeeeee…nothing really matters…nothing really matters ta meeeeeeeeeeee…"

Dave frowned as he yanked Dutchy out of Jack's arms and shoved him back towards the table. Nobody was allowed to be in Cowboy's arms except for him! Casting a jealous eye towards the once proclaimed leader of their gang of friends, Dave crossed his arms over his chest and turned to watch the next singer take the stage.

"Great, thanks a lot Dutch! Now I'm sleepin' on the fuckin' couch tonight!" Jack exclaimed, smacking Dutchy upside the head, causing him to spray what was left of his Mostly-Rum-n-Coke across the table and into Spot and Race's faces.

"Shit!"

"G'damnit, Jack!! Look at what you made him do!"

"Whatta waste of a perfectly good drink…" Dutchy sniffled as he looked at his empty glass, never mind the fact his shirt, the table, and his two friends were covered in it. Bottom lip trembling and on the verge of tears over his wasted drink, he threw himself at Specs, his head buried in the other man's shoulder. "Spexy! He made me spit my drink out!! Beat 'im up! Defend my honor!"

"You're hon-it was a DRINK, Dutch."

"Wha…how could ya…I…Ya don't love me anymore, do ya!? Ya won't defend my honor!!" Dutchy wailed.

"Dude what are you—"

"Bummy!! Sexy Spexy don't love me no more!! He told me last night dat he loved me and now he doesn't!!" The blond continued to sob, his body shaking as his friends all stood around in utter confusion.

Finally standing up, Specs took Dutchy by the shoulders, spun him back around and began beating him over the head and shoulders with his ball cap. "Hey hey hey! Just calm down! Will ya?! Just calm. Down!"

"Are Specs and Dutchy…?" Blink questioned to no one in particular, before pointing back at the two as Dutchy straightened up, his tears seemingly paused half-way down his cheeks as he blinked in blind confusion.

Sniffling and wiping his nose on his sleeve, Dutchy batted his eyes at Specs, his big bright blues still shining with tears and clearly vacant of all common sense. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he glanced to the DJ before looking back at Specs. "Will ya…will ya sing a song wif me?"

"Depends…what song?"

"Our song!! 'Come What May'! I'll let ya have Ewan McGregor's part."

"What? No! Dutchy I am not—"

"Alright fine! Ya can have Nicole Kidman's part, though I don't know why ya would. I thought for sure ya'd rather have Ewan McGregor…_Oh, Cooooome what maaaaaaay!_"

"Somebody buy this idiot another drink! Shut him up!" Specs shouted pulling Dutchy close to him and clamping a hand over his mouth as the blond started singing the love song from Moulin Rouge, very off key.

His wide eyes brightening, Dutchy smiled behind Specs hand and nodded his head excitedly.

"Oh yes yes! Another drinky! Who's for another round of shots?!"

_FLOOR!_

They all stared at him in disbelief. Four shots of tequila, three beers, two Mostly-Rum-n-Cokes, and one Cherry Bomb, no one could believe that he was even still conscious! In the course of three hours he'd been able to drink three of his friends under the table—literally; they were drinking _under_ the table after slipping off their chairs—outted Spot and Race (while confessing that Spot really was every bit as good of a kisser as he claimed to be and that Race was a very lucky man to be on the receiving end of that tongue), sang yet another off-key love song to Specs, and managed to once again insult their small-chested waitress.

There he was though, his shoulders rolling as he moonwalked across the dance floor, doing the best impersonation of Michael Jackson a blond haired, blue eyed, white boy could do—pelvic thrusts and crotch grabbing included. Half the bar seemed to have joined in with him as "Thriller" rocked the room. How could it be that he wasn't able to form tangible sentences anymore, but he could still dance and lip-sync that song to a perfect tee? In his drunken state had he been possessed by the spirit of MJ himself? No one really knew for sure, but it sure seemed like he had been!

Jaws slacked, they watched as he seamlessly led his followers in the most memorable dance routine of the whole song. To the right, to the right, to the right, move the arms and hands from side to side; to the left, to the left, to the left, move the arms and hands from side to side. They acted as one, no one missing a beat or single move. Honestly, it gave all his friends still sober enough to watch the willies (those who weren't sober enough were strangely part of the dance routine).

Spinning around quickly and popping up onto his toes as he grabbed himself, Dutchy snatched the microphone from the DJ and began sashaying towards his group of friends again. Smirking and licking his lips in what was supposed to be a sexy kind of way, he locked his gaze on Specs as he moved closer and closer. Feeling awkward and afraid of what his now publicly known boyfriend was going to do, Specs frantically searched for a way out as the song drew closer to its end and Dutchy moved to stand in front of him.

"_The foulest stench is in the air, the funk of forty thousand years, and grisly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom," _Dutchy smirked as he began to lean in closer, the funk of far too many drinks lingering on his breath, "_and though you fight to stay alive, your body starts to shiver. For no mere mortal can resist, the evil of…the Thriller." _

Eyebrows waggling suggestively, the blond threw his head back; perfectly mimicking Vincent Price's eerie laugh. "Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaa! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha---"

Then it happened. In mid drunken wicked laugh, Dutchy's face finally fell as his body stopped moving and he stood blinking blankly in front of him. For a second, the friends all watched as he dropped the mic and slowly started to teeter from side to side, the color quickly draining from his face. Frowning, Bumlets sighed as he moved over towards him. Tilting his head in thought, he took a deep breath and in a rather anti-climatic sort of way, lightly blew against Dutchy's shoulder. As if on cue in a perfectly rehearsed play, the lightest lightweight of them all toddled to the side before finally slumping to the ground in an unconscious heap just as the last laugh echoed away.

"Think we should help him?" Jack asked nonchalantly as they all looked down at him.

Looking between themselves and then back at Dutchy, they all frowned and shook their heads, turning their attention back to their own drinks. "Naaaah."


End file.
